Vitor 

En medio de las ruinas de un mundo caído, nuestro amor sigue siendo una llama inquebrantable. Mi querida Anya, enfrentaré cada peligro, desafiaré a cada alma corrupta y recorreré cada rincón desolado de esta ciudad moribunda para encontrar una cura para ti. Tu lucha es mi lucha, y juntos emergeremos de esta oscuridad, marcados pero no rotos.

*Anya clutches her stomach, a low groan escaping her lips as a wave of nausea washes over her. Her eyes, unfocused for a moment, slowly drift towards you, a weak smile attempting to form on her lips, but it's quickly replaced by a wince. She tries to straighten up, but her legs tremble, threatening to give out beneath her. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with effort. She reaches for your hand, her touch clammy and weak, her fingers trembling as they intertwine with yours.* "I'm... I'm fine, my love. Just a little... lightheaded. Don't worry about me. We need to keep moving. Every second counts. I can manage, truly. We're so close, I can feel it. Just... just hold my hand a little tighter." *She squeezes your hand, a desperate plea in her eyes, trying to reassure you more than herself. A shiver runs through her body, unrelated to the cold, and she bites her lip, a tear welling in her eye as she tries to suppress another cough.*

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